


Have You Ever Squirted?

by thelilnan



Category: Insidious (Movies)
Genre: Casual Sex, M/M, Squirting, also tucker's hair is probably good and specs works at starbucks, elise is alive she just aint here, fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 08:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15384639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilnan/pseuds/thelilnan
Summary: Tucker propositions his long-time fuck buddy to satisfy a particular kink. Two guesses as to what it is.





	Have You Ever Squirted?

It started simply enough, as these things tend to. It was late one evening when the two men were boredly “watching” Netflix and idly scrolling through their phones. No one had said anything in over half an hour, both men lost in their technology, though they were mere feet from each other. Typical Millennial style. Specs had just pulled his feet onto the couch, intent on finding a more comfortable position to slowly ease his body into bedtime mode, when Tucker suddenly spoke up. It startled Specs, initially just with the sound of his voice, though soon after with the content of his question.

“Have you ever squirted?”

So much for relaxing.

Initially, Specs panicked. The very nature of the question—so lewd, so depraved—had him mentally packing his bags and absconding from the property. But there was Tucker, casual as ever, daring him to answer.  _ 10:15 pm and still to early for this shit, _ Specs thought wryly.

“No!”

“Really?”

“Yes really! What the hell…”

Tucker, damn him, just shrugged and Specs could have killed him with the sharpness of his glare alone, “I was just thinking about it.”

“Why the hell are you just ‘thinking about’ that??” Specs demanded, though he knew the answer. He and Tucker had been fucking on and off long enough for him to anticipate Tucker’s “moods.” This must’ve been one of them. They must’ve been getting to the point that they’d divulge their weird sexual kinks and hang ups.  _ Great. _

“I bet I can get you to do it,” typical. Tucker brushed the whole thing off and plowed on, forgive the pun. Specs bristled, hot embarrassment washing over him in increasingly overwhelming waves. And still, Tucker remained calm and collected, as if he weren’t propositioning some wild, kinky sex with his business partner, roommate, and fuck buddy.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

And the matter was dropped.

So it would seem.

A few days passed and neither man made any mention of  _ that _ subject. Tucker went about his usual activities—updating their equipment, finding odd jobs on Craigslist and Facebook for quick cash—and Specs clocked his hours at Starbucks, and everything seemed normal.  _ Seemed. _ But the idea was always in the back of Specs’ mind, frustrating and flustering him, often at the worst times. He’d be in the middle of a morning rush, calling out someone’s half-caff venti soy double caramel frappuccino with extra whip and then, like so many intrusive thoughts before, there would be Tucker’s voice asking,  _ have you ever squirted? _

Whipped cream got everywhere.

He wondered if this was actually Tucker’s plan; to fuck with him. If it was all just a stupid prank to make the more neurotic of the ghost hunters’ brains go into overdrive and fuck him up for a couple days. Fucking hysterical. Specs fumed at the notion of this, convinced himself this  _ had _ to be the case, and set out to text Tucker and tell him to go fuck himself. He never did, but he intended to, and that was worth… something.

Back at home, as the older man tinkered away with yet another garage-sale-find-turned-ghost-hunting-equipment, his own mind was just as consumed by the idea, if not more so. Unbeknownst to his younger partner, Tucker was genuinely interested in this particular kink, though that was a fairly new revelation for him as well. It’d never particularly struck a chord with him before; it seemed pretty lewd and a little unnecessarily messy, and was often coupled with over-the-top shrieks and gyrations… not so much his style. But with Specs…

Tucker hesitated to address his attraction to the younger man, for many reasons. One of these reasons was Specs’ status as a transgender man because, Tucker felt, articulating just how much he loved Specs’ body could border on fetishism and he’d hate to be culpable of that. He knew well enough to leave it alone and just continue on the course they’d fallen onto over the past year; hunt ghosts, bicker over everything under the sun, and fall into bed on a moment’s notice.

But now he had to get all kinky with it, didn’t he.

He stumbled upon some porn of a certain nature that happened to feature a transgender performer, whose partner had gotten him to start squirting.  _ That _ was when the other shoe fell, as far as Tucker’s interest in the action went. His brain immediately made the connection to Specs and conjured bold, beautiful scenes of the younger man quaking with an orgasm so powerful it ripped all bodily control from him, and that was that. Tucker had to see it happen.

Specs didn’t seem so enthused.

It might’ve gone back to that whole “fetishizing” thing Tucker was looking to avoid. These things happen.

So he backed off for a week or two; let Specs calm down and life return to normal. But he endeavored to do his own research on the side, to find out exactly how to make this fantasy come true.

Luckily, the internet had no shortage of listicles on the subject, even if the language was a bit too female-centric for his liking. Still, it all sounded very straightforward. Relaxation, stimulation, and locating that most important-of-all G-spot.  _ Whatever _ , Tucker thought as he realized he might not exactly know where Specs’ was,  _ More research for me. _

But for now, he had to wait for Specs to come to him. Any propositioning on his part would probably set Specs on edge. By then the cause would be lost. So he would wait.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.

After a particularly stressful day at work and a long string of prank calls on their Spectral Sightings line, Specs was all over Tucker. Well, as “all over” as the very tightly-wound editor of the paranormal blog could reasonably be; he had begun the night by sitting much closer to Tucker than normal on the couch, body tense and ears red. Tucker knew where this was going but played it cool, getting lost in the movie they’d decided to watch, eating the pizza and breadsticks they’d ordered for dinner. Specs had barely ate anything, though he did drink a bottle or two of the cheap beer they had leftover from God knows when.

_ Too easy _ , Tucker smirked internally. He finished his own beer and threw an arm over the back of the couch, casual as anything. He was about to make his move when Specs caught him off guard and leaned into him, face up-turned to nuzzle into his beard. Tucker didn’t see that coming; not in a million years. Specs took advantage of this surprise, while Tucker’s brain tried to reboot, and kissed him.

They didn’t… kiss.

Not really.

It just wasn’t their thing. Sure, sometimes, but it was so rare that Tucker, again, was thrown for a loop. And Specs was never this bold. They’d just barely started making out when Specs suddenly climbed into Tucker’s lap and buried his hands in the hair at the nape of the older man’s neck, deepening their kiss. It must’ve been an absolutely hellish day at Starbucks.

“One of our espresso machines broke,” Specs sputtered randomly between long kisses.

He could work with that.

Tucker grunted in response, licking into Specs’ mouth and letting his hands roam up and down the smaller man’s legs, up to his ass and under his shirt. Specs moaned, arms wound tightly around Tucker’s neck now, chest pressed tightly to his.

_ Foreplay is key, _ one of the listicles had emphasized. Tucker broke away from kissing Specs to gently bite a trail from his mouth to his ear, which immediately prompted a startled moan from the younger man. Specs was beginning to writhe in Tucker’s lap, which was about one of the hottest things Tucker had ever seen.  _ Maybe foreplay  _ is _ important _ , he half-joked with himself.

Specs was quickly getting impatient, ignorant of Tucker’s agenda. All he wanted was some relief from the constant sexual frustration he’d been dealing with for the last ten days—since Tucker had mentioned that  _ bullshit _ notion—but now he was playing right into his hands. These thoughts were only semi-coherent as they occured to the younger man, however, as he found it hard to think straight with Tucker nibbling at his ear and neck and his big, rough hands roaming over his back, just under his shirt. It was unbearably erotic.

“Bed,” he whined suddenly, clearly out of breath and eager for the close. Tucker nodded eagerly into his neck. His erection painfully evident under Specs’ hips, which the younger man had been unconsciously grinding on for the last five minutes or so.

Under any other circumstances, the two of them likely wouldn’t last very long when it came to the actual act. But Tucker had made up his mind how this evening would go and even though he was already starting to physically ache with wanting to be inside Specs, he was determined to bring the younger man to an explosive climax first.

“What’s that smell,” Specs asked as they entered his room upstairs.

“Lavender,” Tucker answered off-handedly. He may have plugged in an air freshener or two.

_ Lavender has been shown to induce relaxation and heighten arousal _ , proclaimed yet another listicle. It couldn’t hurt.

Or perhaps it could, as Specs was scrunching up his nose in comical disgust, “Ugh, I hate lavender.”

Tucker blanched slightly. The listicle had lied.

Before he could say anything, Specs unplugged the offending freshener and dug a new one from a drawer in his desk. Slowly, the neutral scent of vanilla drowned out the lavender. They didn’t address it any further.

Specs crawled onto his bed and took off his shirt, revealing pale, smooth skin and two large, dark pink scars just under his pectorals. Tucker admired him quietly, eyes dark and mouth firmly shut, and Specs pulled him over to resume kissing. Tucker hummed against Specs’ lips, hands roaming yet again, though this time they dipped beneath the back of his waistband to grab two firm handfuls of Specs’ ass. Specs grunted, wriggling in Tucker’s hands to get him to touch where he needed it most.

_ Not yet, _ Tucker thought, steadying himself. He repeated the mantra again when Specs’ hands found his groin and rubbed firmly against his erection.  _ Fuck! _

“Hey—” Tucker attempted to curtail whatever Specs intentions were but Specs, it seemed, was on the warpath that night. He hastily unbuttoned Tucker’s pants and shuffled them and his briefs low enough to free his erection. Tucker exhaled sharply, overcome by relief, and Specs seized the opportunity to dip down and wrap his mouth around Tucker’s cock.

_ Fuck! _ Tucker knew he’d be done in about 30 seconds if he let Specs blow him. For as shy, awkward, and buttoned-up as his business partner was, he gave great head. Often, it was what they both preferred to do in the bedroom; Specs sucking Tucker off while he alternated between fingering and eating him out. But, again, that was not the mission tonight. He had to put a stop to this… after a bit.

Finally, Tucker was able to push Specs off of his cock, but not without groaning miserably at the loss. Specs seemed fine either way, assuming if he wasn’t going to blow Tucker then he was about to get fucked sideways into the mattress. 

He was more or less right.

The rest of the two men’s clothes came off quickly and Tucker positioned himself between Specs’ open and inviting thighs. Missionary was not a common position for them; Specs had expected, as per routine, to get into place in Tucker’s lap and ride him until they both reached their shuddering conclusion, but Tucker seemed to be full of surprises tonight. This became even more apparent as Tucker did not push inside of Specs’ cunt and proceed with an eager and punishing rhythm, but rubbed his fingers over Specs’ hardened clit, studying the way Specs moaned and writhed. He did it again, fingers just barely brushing over the wet slit of his pussy, and Specs swore he about came right then and there.

“Fu-Uck—!” Specs gasped, head thrown back and fists shakily gripping his duvet. He shifted his hips, widened his thighs, and dug his heels into the mattress to make it was abundantly clear  _ I need you to fuck me Right. Now. _

But Tucker didn’t.

Not yet.

_ Finger her in a slow, consistent rhythm, adding more fingers over time. _ Easy enough, pronouns aside. Tucker shifted himself closer to Specs, using his own thighs to prop the younger man’s legs open, and fingered him in a slow, consistent rhythm, just as writ. Maybe too slowly, judging by Specs’ increasingly frustrated noises. Not to mention how insistently his hips were moving, struggling to get Tucker’s fingers as deeply inside him as he could.

“Come  _ on—! _ ” He demanded breathlessly. Tucker bit his lip to keep from grinning and added a third finger. Specs spasmed slightly, mouth open and eyes closed, and fuck if that wasn’t beautiful.

“What is  _ with _ you,” Specs moaned as Tucker pumped his fingers, hard and deep. His other hand rested just under Specs’ stomach, pressing slightly while his thumb rubbed Specs’ clit. Specs was nearly convulsing by now, gasping half-words and Tucker’s name whenever he got the breath, “O-oh God—! Tucker—!”

“I just wanna see you like this,” Tucker replied in a low voice; so low Specs might not have been able to hear it. But it was true; Specs out of his mind with pleasure, thrashing and moaning openly, without a shred of self-consciousness… it was intoxicating.

For years Tucker had known Specs as the definition of “asexual prude.” Not to mention he was terminally socially awkward, to the point that he could barely spit out a whole sentence without having to correct himself, apologize, or both. Even after the two had fallen into this casual-not-so-casual fling they had going on, Specs was as shy, awkward, and socially inept as ever. But Tucker liked that about him. Despite all these social failures and misgivings, Specs kept trying and was sincere about all his interactions, which Tucker couldn’t help but admire. But still; Specs was, for all intents and purposes, an awkward little idiot who Tucker loved to provoke.

This wasn’t that Specs.

This was someone who had had a hell of a week, who’d been stressed and needed sexual intimacy so bad that they would do anything to find that ecstasy with another human being. All bets were off, all stutters, sputters, and fumbles forgotten. This man beneath Tucker, writhing, whining, and getting louder by the second, had only one goal in mind. Thankfully, it was one Tucker was keen to acquise.

The universe was funny like that.

“You’re so fucking hot right now,” Tucker leaned down and said this against Specs’ ear, low and quiet like he knew he liked. One of the listicles had said something about dirty talk being an important element of foreplay. He didn’t buy it, but Specs was hot as hell right now and he had a right to know. It also helped that he knew Specs loved his voice when it got all low and rumbly. True to expectations, Specs moaned and turned his face against Tucker’s, his smooth cheek rasping against the roughness of Tucker’s beard.

“Fuck me,” Specs whined quietly, one hand gripping Tucker’s hair, “Please…!”

“Okay,” Tucker nodded. But before he pulled away, he pushed his fingers deep inside Specs. It didn’t take him too long to find what he was looking for; Specs’ G-spot. He felt it a split-second before the man beneath him gasped and sharply convulsed.

_ Nice. _

It was quick work to remove his fingers and replace them with his cock, which had them both groaning loudly with relief. Specs was  _ so wet. _ Tucker bowed his head against the younger man’s neck, taking a moment to revel in the relief of being inside him. Specs was impatient, however, and urged him to move by rolling his hips.

“Fuck—” Tucker gasped, starting to move his hips in a slow, deep rhythm. Specs echoed this sentiment by moaning wordlessly against his ear. His arms were wrapped around his neck yet again, holding on tight as Tucker fucked him.

Before too long, the two had fallen into a deep and furious rhythm that had Specs’ Ikea headboard bumping into the wall and the two men gasping and moaning in concert. Tucker became so lost in Specs that he almost forgot his original intent, until Specs reached down to rub his clit; a sure sign he was close to climax.

Tucker quickly pulled Specs’ hand away and before Specs could protest, changed the angle of his thrusts to hopefully stimulate his G-spot. None of the listicles had said anything about this—everything had been about digital stimulation. But fuck it, if Tucker could rig a 40 year old camera to detect ghosts, he could make his friend squirt by fucking him just right.

He must’ve done something right, because Specs was getting louder and louder; another sign of him getting close. Sweat was beading on Tucker’s forehead and his legs were beginning to ache but he refused to stop until he was absolutely sure Specs was about to come.

“O-oh fuck—!” Specs dug his nails into Tucker’s back, body tight. Tucker, panting and reluctant, pulled out of him and quickly replaced his cock with his fingers. It was an awkward flurry of movement, most of which leaving Specs confused and disappointed not to come with Tucker’s cock inside him, but any protest was quickly forgotten as his climax hit him.

He was loud.

There was just no other way to describe it. Specs let loose an amazing, feral,  _ loud ass  _ noise as soon as he started to come. Tucker was taken aback by this, as used to Specs’ somewhat quiet whines as he was, and almost pulled away entirely out of surprise. He didn’t though, and good thing, because… well…

Specs squirt.

It wasn’t a massive wave or gush but it also wasn’t insignificant. It was enough that part of Tucker’s arm and leg caught a bit of it and, by all definitions, it qualified as a squirt. And God, the way Specs convulsed and pulsed and  _ yelled.  _ Tucker gripped himself, almost unconsciously, so he didn’t also make a mess of the duvet.

When Specs came down—and it was a while after—he just looked dazed for a long time. Tucker watched, cautiously with his fingers still inside the man, and waited for him to react.

“... Holy shit.”

_ Fair enough. _

“You alright?” Tucker ventured.

Specs nodded, removing his glasses and rubbing over his face. Tucker watched him warily, one hand still gripping the base of his cock. He thought about quickly ending his involvement while Specs was still recovering, but that line of thought was quickly curtailed by the other man clearing his throat pointedly and shooting him a knowing look.

Tucker smiled sheepishly. It was the first time he had ever done so with Specs.

“Well.” Specs said expectantly. Tucker shied under the knowing gaze.

“Yeah.”

“Satisfied?”

What was this, a Snickers commercial? Tucker laughed awkwardly and nodded. He just barely missed Specs similarly satisfied grin. Barely.

“You’re washing the sheets tonight, dude.”

_ Fair enough. _

 

End.


End file.
